<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Of Strings and Whispers by JadeDove</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25624858">Of Strings and Whispers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeDove/pseuds/JadeDove'>JadeDove</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst angst angst angst, Flashbacks, Panic Attacks, tiny bit of fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:28:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,394</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25624858</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeDove/pseuds/JadeDove</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After spying on Rey's training, Ben has a painful epiphany.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Of Strings and Whispers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>PLEASE READ: This is one of the most difficult pieces I've ever had to write. It is also, I believe, one of my best. A WARNING: there is a sort of a panic attack, so if this is a sensitive subject for you please be cautious. Special thanks to Stotle for proofreading and providing great opinions while I was writing this. If you enjoyed it please leave a comment and a kudos.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Smoke was still rising from Vader’s helmet when Ben tore his hand away from it’s shrivelled face. He’d only meant to uncover Rey’s location. He didn’t expect to be bombarded with glimpses of both of their pasts. It felt like yet another straw on the camel’s back. </p><p>He didn’t enjoy being the camel.</p><p>Particles of dirt from Exegol fell off of Ben’s shoes as he strode to a white table, leaning forward slightly on his hands. He tried to focus on the scattering of stars outside the window. It wasn’t working. His father’s voice, infuriatingly forgiving, still rang in his ears. </p><p>Ben remembered that moment as clearly as the universe spread out in front of him, down to the calluses on his father’s hand as he softly touched his son’s cheek before plunging into the smoke below. It was a reckless effort to prove his commitment to the dark side, Ben knew that now. Killing his father didn’t rid him of his turmoil, of the guilt that would froth in his throat at the mention of his likeness to him. </p><p>
  <i>Snoke is using you for your power. When he gets what he wants, he’ll crush you.</i>
</p><p>That was what Han had told him and he was correct, although not in the end. In that moment, turning his uncle’s saber towards his ‘true enemy,’ he was at peace, in a messy kind of way. His mind was being torn in half, but what awaited him in the space left in between was pure fatigue, a tiredness with the way the universe’s hierarchy was built. The Jedi, the Resistance, the Sith, the First Order: all of it was just weights meant to tip an invisible scale. He knew then as he struck the final blow unto the Supreme Leader, that he had to forge his own path.</p><p>If that meant it was one forged in blood, so be it.</p><p>And so, over time, he focused on that path, Lord Palpatine whispering in his ear for what felt like every waking hour. Sleeping was worse. Ben deliberately went without sleep often, just to escape the feelings of terror and powerlessness that came with the nightmares. They made him feel weak, perhaps that’s why they scared him so badly. </p><p>Early on in his apprenticeship under Snoke, he’d watch as other powerful figures in the First Order abused spies and other prisoners. One specific instance of cruelty scarred into his memory was when an officer slammed a prisoner’s head onto the floor and stepped on his head. He pressed down slowly, gradually applying more weight until the man’s jaw snapped grotesquely. Ben left the cell after that. </p><p>His supposed worthlessness was beaten into him with every stroke of his saber, every word he uttered. He felt like the prisoner, but instead of a foot there was a cement cage around him, creeping inwards until he felt like his lungs were turning in on themselves. But Palpatine knew that all Ben needed was a breath of encouragement, a subtle compliment about a successful mission, to let him breathe again, even if for a second.</p><p>Now, after being told of Rey’s lineage and of Palpatine infecting his mind, Ben was thrown off course for what felt like the millionth time. Vader and Snoke had just been vessels for his ascension to a cursed throne. </p><p>He sighed aloud, running a hand down his face and rolling his shoulders back. His tension was at an all-time high lately. With everything going on, he felt like he was losing control, not over himself but over the pieces in whatever rigged game that was being played. At this point, he wasn’t sure whether or not he was a player or a piece. </p><p>His jaw clenched as he came to a realization: he was a puppet. Since the first day he could remember, Palpatine was carving him into what he desired. While Leia was commanding the Resistance and his father was off smuggling, Ben was being dragged under the crashing waves of the dark side. Anger surged in his chest as he silently cursed his parents for throwing him into the maw of the wolf, allowing him to be snapped up by Palpatine. </p><p>On the outside Ben was shaking. His nails formed red crescents in his palms and his jaw clenched so tightly he thought he might break a tooth. All those years he trained with Luke, the Sith Lord was tying strings, waiting for the right moment. </p><p>And then the moment came. Luke tried to kill Ben and in doing so made himself the final string. Palpatine saw an opportunity and he took it. Ben’s soul <i>burned</i> along with everything surrounding him. All that remained were the strings. </p><p>
  <i>I have been every voice you have ever heard inside your head.</i>
</p><p>Ben fell to his knees. His body was alight with agony. Nothing made sense anymore. The only people he’d ever loved betrayed him, threw him away like he wasn’t worth anything. He would never be anything, after all. That was what he’d always been told, it was what was beaten into him since he could first speak. </p><p>
  <i>You’re afraid. That you’ll never be as strong as Darth Vader.</i>
</p><p>He felt like he was choking on air. A thin layer of sweat shone on his face as he wrapped his arms around his middle, guarding himself like an animal cornered. Except he wasn’t lashing out. There was no use. The strings were tightening, digging into his skin, drawing blood. Just when he thought he could loosen them, fight tooth and nail for some semblance of control, he was muzzled again. </p><p>A quiet thump sounded when his forehead gently hit the floor, gasping desperately for air. </p><p>
  <i>Your son, he’s gone. He was weak and foolish like his father. So I destroyed him.</i>
</p><p>Deep down, Ben knew he lied. Every day he wrestled with the light side. He didn’t know if he could ever truly defeat it. </p><p>At this point, he didn’t even know if he wanted to.</p><p>
  <i>Come home.</i>
</p><p>No, he thought, he would be an outcast. He wouldn’t just be worthless, he’d be a traitor. </p><p>
  <i>You’re a monster.</i>
</p><p>Yes, that’s exactly what they’d spit as he returned, just like she said. </p><p>The walls were crumbling around him just like the night the temple burned, only this time it was out of his control. He had told himself to let the past die, kill it, but he couldn’t even follow his own orders. He had failed, like he always did. The feeling of worthlessness was seeping into him like a venom, Palpatine the snake.</p><p>
  <i>It isn’t too late.</i>
</p><p>But it was. From the very beginning, it was. From the first word that Palpatine uttered, from the first time he sat in the corner of his bedroom sobbing alone, he was always lost. It was always going to be too late. </p><p>Too late for the man destined to be Supreme Leader.</p><p>The fallen apprentice.</p><p>The lonely son.</p><p>A dry and broken sob ripped itself out of Ben’s throat. The light overhead shattered, pieces chiming as they rained down. He slammed his fist into the ground, cutting himself on a shard of glass. Suddenly, he stilled. The world washed away like water on a beach as he sat up, gazing almost serenely at the wound. </p><p>When he was young, Chewie (or as Ben would refer to him, Uncle Chewie) would teach him how to shoot a blaster. They would fire at a dummy made of haphazardly-stacked rocks. Once, he had somehow let a blaster bolt burn the side of his hand. Chewie took a tearful Ben to Leia in her quarters. She knelt down and took his injured hand in hers and kissed his forehead. She dressed the wound and murmured gentle words of encouragement. “You’re very brave. You know how I know that?” she asked, tilting his head up to meet her gaze. He shook his head and she offered him a warm smile. “Because I know you’ll get right back on your feet.”</p><p>Ben leaned back and lifted his head, staring at the ceiling as a tear rolled down his cheek and clung to the back of his jaw. His gaze hardened and he stood, grabbing his helmet off of the desk nearby. </p><p>He had to get back on his feet. He had an army to lead.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>